Moonlight and Shadow
by moonlighttruths
Summary: Two Hogwarts students, each aching to be themselves, discover the other as a source of strength. Please R
1. I wish I could have chosen

_Everything belongs to JKR...**Please **Review!!_

Sometimes in the moon's dim light, we see things more clearly. Things which before seemed murky, uncertain before are now illuminated as the sun's light is reflected back at us. As the moon rises over the horizon, we become more and more ourselves, willing to engage others in the deep discussions that souls yearn for and able to let ourselves shed the trappings of daylight.

Tonight, though, there is no moon to shine. The Earth has not yet come full circle, and the moon is hidden. There is an eerie glow around the edge of the lake and the cold water laps softly at my toes.

Everyone thinks that I go to the library to think, but the library often feels creepy, stacks of books looming ominously over me, shadows dancing on the floor and printed words flickering in the candlelight. It is here I come to think and to be alone; to feel the small waves and to be reminded that there is life outside the eternal conflict between light and evil.

I wish that a side had not been chosen for me, that I might have some say in the matter. I wonder if there are Death eaters who feel as I do, thrust forward into leadership for the dark by mere virtue of their friendships. It feels odd to think _virtue_ and _Death Eater_ in the same sentence…. But they can't be pure evil….. Can they?

* * *

I hate moonlight. The pale glimmer of light is not nearly enough to prevent shadows from forming. It offers too many opportunities for revenge, for murder and espionage. Such fancy words for such terrible actions. Actions such as my father delights in doing, actions such as he insists that I will enjoy by virtue of my name. Actions that cause pain, suffering, misery.

Actions that have too often been preformed on me. I know not why my father persists in his morbid fascination with all things evil, but I know that someday soon the time will come when I will have to take a stand.

I cannot hide in the shadows forever, always dancing on the line between subservience and fear, between my schoolboy self and the man my father wishes me to become, a branded man. Branded like cattle, like sheep- mindless servants delighting in the Dark lord's powers, servants I do not wish to join.

I dreamt once of sunlight and freedom, a dream of love and friendship- a dream of futility and impossibility. My skin burns too easily in the sun; my family has done too many secret things.

I will never be able to walk with my head held high if this war does not end soon, for if it continues much longer, even schoolchildren, boys not nearly men, will be drawn into the conflict- and once I am drawn into the war, who knows if I will still be able to walk amongst the living at all?

Yet I know that once I am tattooed, marked forever as a man above caring, I will no longer have doubts. I will be mindlessly committed to all that my Master will command, and it is that freedom above all- the freedom to think and to reason - that I yearn to protect the most.

I wish that a side had not been chosen for me, that I might have some say in the matter. I wonder if there are members of the Order who feel as I do, thrust forward into their leadership by mere virtue of their house.

From the top of the Astronomy tower, brightly bathed in candlelight, anything feels possible. Perhaps hidden amongst the Order is one who does not believe in its cause as I do not believe in mine….


	2. A Velvet Sky

From where I am sitting, the world looms, a terrible set of shadows. The mountains rise up, far in the distance, like large tombstones; the sky is like velvet, wrapping the corpse. Stars sparkle and reflect onto the lake, rippling outwards until my eye can no longer catch the movement, no longer sense the life flowing.

I am surrounded by death as I stand here all alone tonight. I cannot take my mind of today's raid - yet another mindless killing, yet another stupid battlefield.

It's like the Death Eaters don't care that they are killing shopkeepers and librarians, dancers and accountants, all ordinary people who haven't done a thing wrong.

People who could have been my parents.  
Who could have been me.

Harry and Ron are talking about revenge on Lucius Malfoy, and they are too full of righteous anger to listen to my silence. It's like they don't see me. I'm a reference book whenever they are stuck and a homework pad when they forget the assignments. I used to be their friend; now, I am their librarian, brusquely informed that it is my job to lookup the plans to the Malfoy house so that they will know which window to enter through.

I wonder if there is anyone else who feels pushed aside, anyone else who has become a set of abilities, a point of information - and nothing else…. Is there anyone out there who is being wounded slowly, slowly before the final battle even begins?

* * *

The sky is a rich color tonight, midnight blue- imposing and stately. The stars sparkle richly. The water flows majestically. The mountains command and the trees dictate and the whole world just reminds me of my father.

There was a raid in a Muggle town somewhere north of here, so Father's name seems to be on everyone's lips. He was there of course, but there is no proof of that. No muggles were left alive and no Death Eaters were caught - they are all too skilled for that. But the Gryffindors glare at me as they pass me in the hallways, and the Hufflepuffs cower in fear. The Ravenclaws ignore me, as they do the rest of my House, but my fellow Slytherins are the worst.

They treat me as a hero.

It's like they don't see me. I am not Father, much as he wishes that I were. My arm is still unbranded and so my mind remains my own. I used to be their leader, handsome and talented, controlling each schoolboy insult that we dropped oh -so casually. Now though, I am their Prophet - begged for inside information on the next raids, for knowledge on when we will all be inducted.

I am reaching the point where soon I will no longer be able to lie, to smirk my way past every question, to drop tantalizing hints of the killings that I know will soon take place.

I do not care about the Dark Lord --- a dangerous thing to even think, but his mission does not captivate me. He is, after all, the son of a Mudblood. Who is he to tell me that I must hand him control of my mind, my actions, my loyalty, my life?

Do any of my classmates fear his power, fear joining his growing ranks of torturers and loyal servants, as I do? Does anyone else feel as though they will lose the battle before the fighting starts?


	3. Windows to the Soul

_A/N: I had a request to label the parts by who's speaking them... is this something that you feel is needed? ( Hermione is always first, and then Draco...)_

_Also... huge thanks to my beta Twilight Dragoness- but clearly any mistakes are 100 mine!! Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing... I hope you enjoy !_

* * *

I wonder if everything is a window into something else

I wonder if everything is a window into something else. A star into heaven; a mirror into perception; eyes into the soul. There are round windows and square windows, stained glass windows and windows with curtains.

But nothing compares to eyes. They are the truest windows of all. Harry and Ron instructed me to research Malfoy's home, to find the weakest window. They seek revenge on the terrible tragedy that happened last week.

So far, I have nothing.

The Hogwarts library doesn't keep blueprints of all the old houses, and especially not of houses where Death Eaters live. Information like that is too important to be left casually around.

The only thing I have to work from is his eyes.

I don't know why I've never noticed them before. Malfoy's eyes are deep grey, like an ocean before a storm. They scare me. I cannot remember seeing a real emotion play out in his eyes. They taunt and scorn, mocking me with every glance I give them.

If eyes are a window to the soul, then I worry for the state of Malfoy's.

I wonder what _my_ eyes look like. What do people see when they look into my eyes? Do they reflect the stars sparkling outside, or the candle's glow? Or do they see deeper, seeing the same worn-down, depressed and lonely person that I see?

* * *

Standing here at the window to the astronomy tower, I feel almost homesick. The whole school is made of stone, but it is only at this window that I ever yearn for home. This is the only place that ever makes me wish I were back in the cold, silent halls of my childhood home.

Now, filled as it is with plans of murder and power, the Manor is no longer the same place. The Dark Lord's presence has entered every stone, just as he will soon enter my soul.

The man – if he can even be called so – scares me. His mission disinterests me, true, but the power he wields is frightening. Perhaps it is that I have heard often how he came to return, to take on a human body once again.

Yet, the magic that gave him a form did not take away his eyes. They follow you, searching out ingratitude and rebellion, probing harshly into the remnants of humanity that his followers possess. Their red glare is snake-like, almost visible even in darkness where they glimmer with malice and arrogance.

His eyes reek of power.

I wonder what people see when they look into my eyes. Certainly, I have no such power as he does, for the Dark Lord could not have risen so high were he not among the most talented wizard of his generation and those before it, but I am no weakling.

Do people they notice only the posture I have been trained to hold, the poise I have been taught to reflect? Or do they see deeper, looking into my eyes, seeing the frustrated, confused and lonely person that I am?


	4. Grey Nights

Since the massacre, It's been grey outside. Mist, Rain, Stones. Everything is the same color. Food, Lake, Sky. Everything is this overwhelming grey- like the earth is mourning the loss.

Last week, Harry and Ron told me to find the weakest window in the Malfoy's expensive home, so that they could enter through it and avenge all those massacred.  
The library failed me, for perhaps the first time in my life.

All I had to work from were his eyes. Meager enough to go on in any event, but his eyes have always been so guarded. They are full of scorn and pride. They are eyes of entitlement.  
I looked into those eyes every day, every class, so often that I wondered that he didn't tease me for it. I kept looking for 'the real him'.

I wanted to see his soul.

Yesterday, two Death Eaters were captured. They were silly enough to try to use a Muggle pool without bothering to hide their brands, thinking that they'd be safe, but an undercover wizard spotted them and called in the Ministry. Thankfully, Harry and Ron have dropped their plans of amateur revenge; they spent last night agonizing over their upcoming Quidditch match.

But I haven't been able to stop watching Malfoy's eyes.

Every so often, there would be a flash of some feeling- pride, accomplishment, anger- but then it would disappear, and his eyes would go back to their stormy, arrogant ways.  
But that flash would be enough for me to continue watching him, trying to find his soul.

I wonder why he hasn't teased me about it yet.  
Maybe, maybe he's been desperate for someone to simply look him in the eyes without fear…………

* * *

Since the massacre, all I've seen is fog. Hazy grounds, hazy pathways, hazy choices.

My time is running out. Father knows that I have been treated as a hero throughout the week, and he grows frustrated with my lack of pride in that fact. He sees it as a lack of pride in who I am, who I stand for… and in who I must be.  
It is, after all, inevitable that I will ever be granted the chance to be something more.

But I cannot stand to know that I will one day be forced to stand, head bowed, subservient to a cruel-hearted, deceitful Master.  
I will become my father, locked into a system of bribery and lies, without an independent thought in my mind and thoroughly consumed with the Dark Lord's work.

And if the Dark Lord is somehow brought down, the world will be full of options again.

For everyone but me.

Heck, even Granger will have options again. Granger's Mudblood status will suddenly become a badge of honor. Her clumsy friends will be the heroes that they deserve to be - because if they can, somehow, successfully bring down the Dark Lord, then even I could not help but admit the service they would have rendered.

And I…. if I am not killed fighting for the side of subservience and torture, then I will be locked into Azkaban. No one will care about the internal struggle I have faced, the hazy future I have had to live with.  
It is easier, after all, to say that I am the same as they are. To say that the future is the present.

Because, one day, I will be.

But for now, I wish that that I could be anything but.  
I am not foolhardy enough to behave in an undignified way and thus draw Father's attention, or to act in a manner unbecoming of my family's name and status….

But I wish that before I lose all of who I am, that I could have a taste of what I could have been. A person that people would be glad to see. A person who would be sought out in a crowd and missed in his absence.

I wish that my father would understand.

In a strange way, I think that somehow Granger understands. She has been watching me all week, and while when she began, her eyes were full of anger; now, they are curious.  
I refuse to tell her off for it. Because somehow, in this past week, she has become the only person who is not afraid to look at me, the only person who does not see my father behind my eyes, the only one who still tries to find the Draco hidden beneath the Malfoy. Somehow, in the past week, I have come to depend on her trusting gaze.

If only my father would look me in the eye... as she does.


End file.
